


the times they are a-changin'

by itwasit



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Santos Campaign
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:39:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23513263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itwasit/pseuds/itwasit
Summary: Helen Santos has a front-row seat to the incredibly strange relationship of Josh and Donna.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 68





	1. 0.5 - Stories

Through the first few months of the campaign, Josh is always kind to Helen Santos. More so, she believes, than he is to anyone else on the staff. 

_ “Josh,” she asked him one evening on the bus, “why are you nice to me?” _

_ “I’m nice to everybody,” he'd said with that cheesy smile. _

_ “You're not nice to anybody, actually. Except me and sometimes my husband. And you have to be nice to him.” _

_ “You just remind me of someone is all.” was the answer she finally got out of him.  _

_ “Who?” _

_ “A woman I used to know… I'd tell you about her, but she always hated the stories I told about her.” _

_ Helen smiled. _

_ “They're good stories,” he insisted, “Stories that would make you like her.” _

_ “Just one. Give me just one. I promise I won't tell…” _

_ Josh leans back in his seat, thinking. “Well, this one time…” he starts in on the story of the last election and her absentee ballot. _

  
  



	2. 1.0 - A White House Ball

Donna Moss has been working the campaign trail with them for barely three days when Helen puts it all together. Lou mentions something she doesn't like about their policy and Donna jokes that it “can't be worse than voting for Wisconsin Republicans.” Josh smiles. Helen notices, even though he tries to hide it, and suddenly everything she knows about him makes sense. 

Helen never asks Donna about her time in the White House, and she never asks either of them about their relationship. She uses the advantage of having less campaign stops than her husband to take care of the kids and to make sure the staff is sleeping, and not drinking  _ too much _ coffee, and calling home once in a while. In return, Donna supplies her with tales of White House antics to get them both through the late nights and early mornings, and never-ending plane rides and days when the highway goes on forever.

It's many, many days before Josh and Donna really start talking to each other again. Helen has nothing to do with it. It sparks from an invitation to a White House ball.

* * *

Annabeth chose Donna’s dress for her that night while Donna was busy making sure the Congressman didn't make a fool of himself during a speech that day. The dress in question was simple, but Annabeth had insisted it was perfect thanks to what she called a “tasteful” slit up the side. 

Now they're standing in the hotel room, just Helen and Donna, trying to figure out what to do. She's done her hair and makeup just right and the dress fits perfectly, but the tasteful slit goes up the right side, not the left. Her right leg is a patchwork of slowly fading scars. 

“People are going to stare,” Donna sighs, pulling at the fabric again as if she can magically make it weave back together. 

“You look good. No one is going to notice,” Helen insists. From a distance you can't even see them and from up close they don't look anything like what Donna thinks.

“People are going to stare in that way that they do when they know it's rude to ask questions. And worse: I’m going to know it.”

There's a knock on the door, though Helen has it propped open on the lock in case anyone needs them.

“Hey,” Josh says, walking in. 

Donna turns. “You need me to tie your tie?”

Josh is just standing there with a look on his face that makes Helen smile. “Yeah…” he tries to remember what he was saying. “You look amazing.”

“Come here,” she says, trying to hide her own smile that's threatening to spill out all of her secrets. She straightens his tie under his collar and his breath catches.

“I’ll meet you downstairs.” Helen gets up to leave.

“Okay.”

“Seriously,” Josh says softly when she's gone.

“I thought it was cut up the other side,” Donna explains though he didn't ask. “Annabeth picked it and I just assumed it would be on the other side.”

“What's the problem?”

“You can see all the scars.”

“Yeah, who cares?”

“ _ Me _ ! It looks… People are going to stare, Josh.”

“You tell me, I’ll beat ‘em up for you.”

She laughs. “I’m pretty sure everybody who's going to be there could take you.”

“Probably.” He shrugs, messing up the tie just as she's gotten it almost perfect. “Still… I know you can defend yourself and all, but anybody who asks about it? Anybody who cares? Not worth your time.”

* * *

She dances with three guys that night. Two of them ask her what happened. She tries to brush it off without giving too many details. Or really any details at all. People are definitely staring. 

The fourth guy she meets is nice. His name is Xavier. He doesn't ask a lot of questions, just asks for her name. They dance for a few songs before she notices the way his eyes keep drifting back. 

He starts to ask at the beginning of a slow song. She recognizes the first few chords, but it's drowned out by his voice: “I don't mean to be rude, but can I ask–”

“Excuse me,” someone says, tapping Xavier on the shoulder. “Can I steal her away?”

It's Josh’s voice and she smiles, remembering what he said at the hotel.

Xavier seems to notice something in that smile. “Oh–Of course,” he stutters, letting go of her. Donna leans into Josh. His hand rests on her hip, where she can't help but think about another scar covered by fabric. 

“And,” Josh adds, looking back, “you should really know better than to ask about a scar. If you have to say  _ I don't mean to be rude _ …”

“Look, I didn't know you two were– I didn't mean to be–”

Josh smiles the way he always does when he knows he's won. “C’mon,” he says, turning back to the dance floor with her. They don't say much after that. 

  
  



	3. 1.5 - Stories (Reprisal)

On another night, sometime after midnight, the Santos bus rolls through Arizona. The sound of the highway has long since become the soundtrack of the campaign. Tonight the low voices on C-SPAN cut through the silence. Helen leans back on one of the benches, reading an essay Peter wrote for school. Donna sits across the aisle, reading polling numbers. The only sound is the occasional flipping of papers. 

When Helen finally looks up she realizes that Josh is still there. She can remember hearing his voice a while ago discussing numbers in Florida, but thought he'd left sometime after that. Instead, to her surprise, his head is resting against Donna’s shoulder and his eyes are closed.

“Is he asleep?” she asks, louder than she meant to. 

Donna looks up, then glances between Josh and Helen. “Either asleep or dead,” she says with a smile.

“In all the months we've been doing this I've never actually seen him sleeping.” Helen shrugs.

“Yeah,” Donna smiles looking back at him. “He's like that. We’ll wake him up if we ever get to a hotel.”

“Josh told me once that I reminded him of someone he used to know,” Helen says a few miles later, “Somehow, I got him to tell me these stories about her. I heard a lot of them on nights like these.”

“Yeah?”

“I didn't realize it for the longest time, but those stories were all about you.”

  
  
  



	4. 2.0 - Gaza

Helen Santos has developed a habit of waiting out her husband’s late-night meetings by sitting in Donna’s hotel room talking campaign strategy and life. 

It's pajamas and folders of papers strewn across the bed with CNN or MSNBC or C-SPAN or whatever else marking time in the background, while Helen and Donna tell each other stories. Eventually Matt always knocks on the door and steals Helen away so Donna can sleep. 

Tonight the hotel is on the outskirts of one of Minnesota’s twin cities. They've been staying there three nights now and still no one can remember which one. It doesn't matter though. Tomorrow they leave for Wisconsin.

In Donna’s room the TV is tuned to CNN and she's half watching the coverage while she talks about Madison. Helen has never been to Wisconsin, and Donna simply will not give Josh the chance to ruin it for her with his stupid jokes. 

Helen’s got her in the middle of a long explanation of her family and how her older brother won't be caught dead out at any of the rallies with them, when something on the TV screen catches her eye. She turns up the volume just as they cut to the footage.

It's Gaza.

It's a car bomb in Gaza. 

It's been almost two years, but still, she knows. It's not the footage they usually show when they talk about it. It's not the footage she's gotten used to seeing. But still, she watches the bomb go off in the background of the video and she knows exactly where it is and exactly who is in that car.

She can't breathe.

* * *

That night the red numbers on his alarm clock read twelve fifty-eight, and he's trying not to fall asleep sitting on the bed reading recent polling numbers. The nighttime news anchor on CNN is droning on in the background, and Josh pays him no mind until he hears him say Gaza. When he looks up at the screen, they're playing footage from that day he hasn't seen before. 

Within the next minute, Josh is out of bed, shoving his wallet into a pocket of his pajama pants so he can get back into his room later. He knows her room number and he knows her. The door slams shut behind him. 

Helen Santos is already in the hall, clutching a room key and checking room numbers as quickly as possible. “Come here. It's Donna,” she says breathlessly, grabbing his arm. “They were talking about Gaza on CNN and she just...”

“Damn it.” This is what he’d been afraid of. He had been counting on her opening the door not knowing what he was scared of. 

“I left her alone to find you.”

“You what? You could have called me!”

“Wasn't thinking. I have the key to the door.”

“Me too.”

Josh knows that if he tried he would never get the door open, so he lets Helen. He’s still the first one in the room. 

“Hey,” he says, finding her sitting on the bathroom floor. Her head rests against her arm between her knees and her breath comes in shuddering gasps. He doesn’t touch her. He's done this enough times to catch all the little things. “I was just coming to find you.”

She looks up at him and wipes the tears from her face with a shaking hand. “You were?”

“I was watching CNN too. I don't even know where they got that footage.”

“I knew. I just knew.”

Josh doesn’t say a word, just kneels down on the floor with her. 

“You're going to be alright with him?” Helen Santos has taken Josh’s usual place leaning against the door jamb.

Donna nods. “Thank you,” she says when she catches her breath enough. 

“For what?”

“Not thinking I’m crazy.”

Helen turns to leave. 

“Be right back,” Josh says, getting up to follow her to the door.

“She really is okay. This doesn't happen much anymore. It was just… Gaza… It was just a bad night,” he promises Helen.

“I don't care if both of you are crazy. You're good at what you do. You take care of her, Josh.”

“Yeah.” The door shuts quietly behind her. 

Josh steps back into the bathroom. “Let’s get off the floor,” he says gently reaching down for her hand. She stumbles when he pulls her up, but he catches her with his hands wrapped around her wrists. “It's late.”

“It's always late,” Donna sighs, leaning into his grip. She's still shaking and he doesn't like it. He hasn't seen her this bad since he was hanging around her apartment when she first came home from Germany.

“You should get some sleep.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want me to…?”

“Stay?” Josh can hear the tears in her voice again. 

“Hey… Come here.” She falls against him and he holds her tight, like he hasn't been able to in so long. He hates when she cries. He hates when she cries because he's afraid of how much he cares. “You're safe,” he promises, “You’re safe with me and I'm not going anywhere.”

Once she starts crying it's like she can’t make it stop. The tears just keep running down her face until the shoulder of his t-shirt is soaked. He holds onto her in that way that makes her feel safer than with anyone else, his thumb tracing circles over the ridges of her spine. 

Eventually the tears stop and the air gets easier to breathe again. “I missed you,” she mumbles against him. 

She lets him guide her to bed and watches as he turns off CNN and lies down next to her. It's reminiscent of years ago, back before she left him and he hated her, when they could talk each other through nightmares and crash at each other’s apartments.

Josh closes his eyes, and doesn't even flinch when she lays down against his side, her head on his shoulder. Before—before she left—he used to tell her old stories until she finally fell asleep. “What are we gonna talk about tonight?”

“It was bad…” She says it simply and somehow he understands what she's talking about. There's a long pause while she finds the right words. “There was this split second where I was still conscious. And I didn't remember that for a while, not until a couple months ago, but for that split second all I knew was that I couldn't breathe and I was in the worst pain of my life. And that this wasn't supposed to be happening I thought I was going to die. And for some reason I thought maybe, just maybe it would be alright if I did.”

Josh doesn't know what to say to that, doesn't know what he can say without saying more than he wants to. He just runs his fingers through her hair again and again.

“I didn't really want to go, I know, but for that second…” She stops. When she starts talking again her voice is different, more the way he remembers. “I wish I didn't remember that. I wish things went from the moment I closed that car door straight to waking up to you in Germany. I don't need all the bad things in between.

“And in every version of things I remember–in the car, in the hospital, after that surgery, and still after every nightmare–I’m always looking for you.”

“It gets better.” he says even though hearing those words directed at him always makes him want to scream. “And I know that sounds stupid and everybody tells you that, but it's true. Someday you'll stop just remembering more things, and it won't hurt as much to remember the things you do.”

“Music stops being sirens,” she says.

“Yeah. And until then I’m gonna be right here.”

“You weren't. I was always looking for you. I would wake up screaming from another version of a nightmare and it was just me and all my thoughts. In New Hampshire, in South Carolina, in Iowa—everywhere. You weren't there. I thought about calling you, but it was always the middle of the night and I never thought you would answer.”

“I always answer for you.”

“You were mad at me.” She says it so softly he can hardly hear her. Whispered as if saying it too loud would make it too true. 

“You were mad at me, too. And it's hard to stay mad at you for very long—I had to convince myself, y'know, keep all your quotes in a folder.”

“You would have answered?” She tilts her head to look at him.

“Always. Red lights, remember?”

“Does that mean we're okay again?”

Josh laughs lightly. “We're okay. We've been okay, we just have to figure it out again.”

“It's different.”

Josh just sighs heavily enough to hold all the words he can't say. She takes it as answer enough. They fall asleep like that eventually: Donna curled up against him, his arms around her. Safe.


End file.
